


Mind Filled with Dreams of Romantic Meetings

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 14:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Before you can really think about it, you write below her name,‘We may enjoy our room in the tower.’





	Mind Filled with Dreams of Romantic Meetings

It really was beneath you to work in a coffee shop.

But you're a poor college student, Dave's sleeping with the manager, no one else will hire you, and most importantly, you will not accept any more help from your mother. Coffee shop it is.

You met Dave while you were moving into your dorm. Your mom and his brother seemed to be old friends, though you're sure you'd have remembered if she’d ever mentioned this gentleman. Dave seemed embarrassed by it all, thus making it was easy to deflect your own discomfort onto him. He was incredibly quick-witted and with as often as he mentioned dicks, he made for a fascinating target for all the questionable psychology knowledge you'd accrued over the years.

He lets you psychoanalyze him, you listen to his raps and critique them. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning, soon after opening, you hear the bell above the door. You look up and smile at the approaching young woman.

She gives you her order-- _coffee, black, and a croissant please--_ and pulls her brown leather gloves off.

"Name?"

"Kanaya."

You smile and nod, not knowing how to spell that at all.

She turns to find a seat and you notice the book under her arm, a collection of essays.

She sits by the window and you stare until Dave nudges you.

"Rise and shine, Lalonde. No sleeping on the job," he pauses and laughs, "J-k, can you imagine? Just go to the back if you want a few winks."

You jump and get to work on her order.

When you get around to writing her name on the cup, you give your best shot at the spelling. You're about to call it out before you hesitate.

Before you can really think about it, you write below her name,

_'We may enjoy our room in the tower.'_

You call her name and try not to stare as she stands. She takes the cup and gives you a tight polite smile before returning to her seat.

She glances at the cup and does a double take at the extra writing. She looks back over her shoulder at you and you forgot you weren't supposed to be staring. You coolly pretend you're busy cleaning, by which you mean you accidentally send the napkin dispenser thing flying off the counter and clattering onto the floor. You hear Dave snort and you really hate your life right now.

"What the hell was that?" He asks after she leaves.

"I have no idea. Have you got any theories?"

"Well, first, what did you write on her cup? No way her name was that long."

"It was a quote from the book she was reading."

"You're in love with her."

"Oh, please. Not all of us can have the whirlwind romance exemplified by a coffee shop owner and his employee. I could never hope to experience something so pure and true."

He nods in agreement while he flicks his thumb to scroll through his Twitter feed.

 

* * *

 

 

Tuesday morning, Kanaya returns.

She has a new book under her arm, her gloves that are red today resting alongside it.

She repeats her order from the day before-- _coffee, black, and a croissant, please._

"Name?" you ask, though you remember everything about this girl from her short visit.

"Kanaya," she reminds you.

She sits in what you assume is going to be her preferred seat. You're still smiling even after she's walked off and Dave, sweeping the floor some ways away, wiggles his tongue between two fingers pointed in a 'V' shape.

You flip him off and fill her order.

Dave incessantly tries to see what you write on the cup, but you have three cats, you're a master at avoiding needy bastards.

You call her name and hand over her order. You see her eyes flick to the cup, only for a moment, before she quickly smiles, thanks you, and returns to her seat. This time, after reading the cup, she doesn't look back at you, only opens her book and reads.

"What did it say? Rose," he starts, leaning on the counter next to you, "Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose."

"Goodness, how did your brother never put you on Adderall?"

“Shit, you want some? My boyfriend can hook you up."

"You... The manager is your boyfriend and your dealer?"

"Obviously," you don’t try to ask why that's obvious, "but for real, what did it say?"

" _Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine._ ”

“Better make sure she doesn’t choke to death on that engagement ring you shoved in her croissant, bro.”

 

* * *

 

 

When you spot the book under her arm, you can’t contain a groan. You _know_ those poems, you know them like the back of your hand. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to write on her cup again. It was weird enough the first two times, three would just be undeniably creepy.

Dave throws a fit once he realizes you chose not to write anything.

"Dude, Rose. She’s almost done with her drink. What if this is the last time you see if her? Maybe she'll think you're weird but who cares? There's tons of other cafés in this city, it’s not like she'll be forced to come here."

"I just, I really don’t want to make her uncomfortable. It was dumb to start with and she's just trying to enjoy her morning. I'm not going to do anything else."

His face goes blank and you can see the gears turning in his head. You're about to say something when he hops the counter and suddenly you know exactly what he's going to do.

"Dave!" you whisper-shout.

He saunters up to her, cool as a cucumber, and starts talking at her. You're mortified but you keep watching. It’s impossible not to.

He smacks her on the back before he walks away and you really need to teach him how to interact with women.

"The babe has been secured."

"What the hell did you do?"

He glances over and you see her approaching. His eyebrows fly up and he escapes to the back.

_Oh my god._

She's looking at you, you have no idea what Dave said to her, and you can't bring yourself to say anything.

Fortunately for you, all she does is place a folded-up piece of paper on the counter and slides it toward you with her index finger.

"Um, I hope your friend wasn't messing with me. Good day."

As soon as she’s out the door you scramble to open it. It’s a page torn from the book.

 _'the rosyfingered moon_  
_surpasses all the stars. And her light_  
_stretches over salt sea_  
_equally and flowerdeep fields'_

Then, written neatly below, is a phone number. Her phone number.

You immediately rush to the back room and shove the note to Dave’s chest.

"Holy shit," you say.

"Holy shit?" he replies, then opens the note. "Holy shit."

Your brain isn't working too great right now.

"What—What do I do?"

"Just my opinion, but I think you're supposed to like, text her. But who knows, that could mean anything."

"This is an extremely nuanced situation, I can't just _text_ her."

"Nope, nope. I am not listening to this horseshit. If you don’t text her, sans the weird mind games, within the next two days, I will do it for you. And that's a promise."

You can only imagine what he would send.

"I'll do it tonight. Tomorrow night."

"Aw come on I wanna see what happens. I’ll do my job tomorrow if you text her tonight."

You consider that prospect.

"Deal."

 

* * *

 

 

You crack open your copy of _If not, winter_ and turn to a random page. You hope the right poem will jump out at you.

The first page you see just says _'celery_.'

You sigh. Round two.

You smile when you see it. You pick up your phone and save her number, double, triple checking to make sure you made no typos.

You write out your message and hit send before thinking too much about it. Thinking does more harm than good in cases like this.

_'I long and seek after.'_

You sigh nervously and hold your phone to your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, she's the same as you.

**Author's Note:**

> [intense cello as the camera zooms on rose & kan making eye contact across the starbux]


End file.
